Mystery Mistress
by MySeverusForever
Summary: Alternate Universe. No Magic. What happens when Hermione Granger is orphaned, and then adopted as a servant, and the one man who had helped her doesn't recognize her? Draco Malfoy London's most notorious rake finds Hermione to be unlike any other woman, and he has to have her.
1. Chapter 1

**Alternate Universe. No Magic. What happens when Hermione Granger is orphaned, and then adopted as a servant, and the one man who had helped her doesn't recognize her? Draco Malfoy London's most notorious rake finds Hermione to be unlike any other woman, and he has to have her.**

_1822:_

_She was dreadfully cold- the rain soaking through her cloak as she curled next to the freshly dug grave. As she shivered her thick, brown hair blew around in the wind, sticking to her tear-stained cheeks. If only she had been home, instead of checking on the younger children next door, then perhaps she could had convinced him not to do it. The unmarked grave looked solemn, and utterly isolated. The young girl sat for what seemed like hours, quietly whispering psalms that she had tried so hard to memorize. Exhaustion crept into her bones, and slowly she righted herself, noting with little emotion that her dress was now covered in mud. Lightly pressing her hand against the muddy soil covering her father's grave, Hermione took one last shaky breath. "I'm so sorry Daddy... I love you" With a muffled sob she stood up, just as a hand jerked her backwards by her arm. A cry of shocked pain tore through the young girl as a man angrily shook her. _

_"You miserable boy! What in the hell do you think you're going to find here? Didn't anyone tell you that all suicides possessions go to the Crown? There is nothing for you here. Get lost!" Hermione blinked through her tears up at the blonde man, his eyes narrowed in contempt. As she tried to reply, a whimper escaped her. He was protecting her father's grave. He was an honourable man. Even if she had nothing else in her entire life, she had this man's values to hold on to. With one last violent shake, she fell to the ground, her hood falling off exposing her childish face, stained with tears._

_"Dear God, you're a __**girl**__. How old are you?" The man stood above her, his hair shining in the rain, causing him to look like an angel to her. Scrambling to her feet, she slipped slightly in the mud, and he caught her arm, much gentler this time._

_"F-fourt-teen, sir." She ducked her head, staring at the droplets of rain fall into puddles that her shoes had made. To her surprise, he lifted her chin, staring at her in confusion; his expression utterly bewildered. She sized him up, noticing his richly-favoured clothing. He was wealthy, and around twenty, she would guess. _

_"What are you doing out here? You'll catch a death of a cold out here. Why are you even out in this weather?" His voice was deep, and gruff, yet soothing, and she slowly felt herself relax. _

_"H-Hermione Granger... H-He was my f-fath-" Her voice cut off with a sob, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her close for a moment._

_"Hermione? You're his daughter. Of course." Exhaustion seeped through her, and dizziness consumed her. Feebly she leaned against him, closing her eyes. She felt him press his lips to the top of her head, and fresh tears filled her eyes. "You need to get back to town... Here, I'll take you." Carefully he swept his strong arms beneath her legs, cradling her to his chest as he walked her to his tall horse. He gently helped her onto it, before gracefully jumping on after. With a quick movement, he had placed his heavy cloak over her, and moved to grab the reigns. She felt the horse move beneath her, and she tiredly leaned against the man. _

_With a small pause of hesitation, she whispered, "Might I know your name, sir?" The cloak had warmed her enough that her shivers had ceased, and she moved against his warm chest._

_His arms tensed around her as he held the reigns, and she felt his chest rumble as he spoke. "Draco." _

_"Draco." She murmured softly, before slowly drifting into a deep slumber, the past few days of stress getting to her. When they reached the town, she stayed asleep in his arms as he rode up to an Inn, where a man rushed out. In a soft whisper, he said. "Blaise, this is Ted Grangers daughter. I'm going to bring her to her home."_

_Blaise stared at the sleeping girl for a moment, and frowned lightly, a look of compassion. "Ted Granger, as in your late Commanding Officer?" With a nod, Draco flicked his wrist, and started back on his way to bring the poor girl home. _

_The next morning Hermione woke up, with a hot brick wrapped at the foot of her bed. She was in a nightgown, and she hesitantly stood up, looking around the empty room. Despair gnawed at her, and she walked down the stairs, where to her surprise the fire was lit and warming the entire room. Her dress from the night before was drying beside the fire, and Hermione very slowly walked up to it, noticing that the stains had been sponged off. Draco had stayed throughout the entire night, cleaned her clothes and... Hermione turned towards the kitchen, where a loaf of fresh bread sat, with a hunk of cheese and a few apples. He brought her food. Tears streamed down her face as she thought of the handsome man; her knight in shining armour. After she had eaten, and brought down a small bag of clothes and a few books that she had been able to salvage, Hermione sat, and waited silently. Finally a carriage drove up, and a stiff, stern woman stepped out with a grimace on her face. _

_"Hermione Granger?" The grouchy woman asked with a frown. Mutely the young girl nodded, picking up her bag as she walked down to the carriage. Opening the door, Hermione saw with dread two other girls, a few years older than herself. With a sigh, she sat down, and stared out the window as the carriage started driving towards her new home. The St. Peters orphanage. _************************************************** ************************************************** *****************

1828:

Hermione quickly and efficiently made the bed in a few small gestures, before tucking the sheets in. With an easy grace, she stooped down, and picked up the nightgown that littered the floor. Her hair was tied back into a bun with a small old, ribbon, and she was clad in an old, dirty black dress. With one last glance around the room, she picked up the old sheets, and the nightgown, before retreating out of the room. Squaring her shoulders, she walked purposefully towards the servants courters, using the back corridors to get there quicker. With a small sigh, she entered the room, nodding politely to a few other servants. Moving swiftly, she made it to the corner of the room with the wash basket, where she dropped the garments she held. With a small frown, she picked up the basket of mending, and moved to a chair, where she began to sew.

After she had finished three pieces, the seat beside her was taken by the newest servant girl- Ginny. Her bright red hair was hidden under a small bonnet. As she began to do her own mending, she glance dup at Hermione, and smiled politely. "Did you hear the news?" Her voice was soft, and her green eyes sparkled with excitement.

With a frown, Hermione shook her head, causing a few wild curls to bounce loose from her bun. Her nimble fingers were working quickly with the needle and thread, as she looked up at Ginny. "Which news, girl?"

Almost bouncing with excitement, the red-head grinned up at her, "Lord Malfoy is coming to visit tonight! Miss Pansy was talking with her Ma, and from what I gathered, they suspect an engagement is going to be in place." Hermione wrinkled her nose, imagining the poor bloke who would end up being betrothed to the girl who she worked for. Watching the girl bounce with excitement, Hermione recalled when she had first been adopted by the Parkinson family, only to be used as a cheap source of labour that couldn't leave until she was of age. Twenty-one... Just one week to go, Hermione smiled into her mending as she sewed.

With a small shake of her head, Hermione whispered, "Lord Malfoy?" She tried to recall previous events, but came up blank, before she let out a small noise of realization. "As in, London's most notorious rake? The man who just came into his fortune due to his father's untimely death?" Ginny giggled, and blushed; obviously daydreaming of the man. Hermione had never seen him in person; she had only come across snippets of conversation about him.

"Yes. Apparently he just got rid of his current mistress, and that's why Miss Pansy believes that he is interested in her. Obviously there must be a reason for him to get rid of his current fling right before attending the house party." Ginny smiles sweetly, still innocent at the age of seventeen. With a grimace, Hermione finished up her mending and stood.

"Well, from what I heard, Lord Malfoy frequently disposes of his mistress's without a reason why. I highly doubt he has come to marry off Pansy, but we can always hope." Hermione left a giggling Ginny, and darted outside, walking out into the garden, where the tall hedges hid her well. She presumed she had less than two hours before she would be needed again, and she planned to use it. Stretching lightly under the warm sun, she moved to a tree, where there was a hollow hole at the base. With a sneaky smile, Hermione pulled out a large book, and curled beneath the tree. Flipping it open, the servant was soon lost in another world, where dreams actually came true. ************************************************** ************************************************** *****************

"Hurry up, Missy! I cannot be late for dinner!" Pansy whined her hands on her hips as she pouted down at Hermione. Growling at the ridiculous name that they had given her when she was adopted, Hermione glowered. With a roll of her eyes, Hermione stayed silent as she continued to mend the torn flounce on the dress. After a moment, she stood up, dusting off her dress, watching Pansy with a bored expression. "Now get my brush, and fix my hair. Honestly, are you servants good for anything?" The snooty girl looked at her reflection; lightly adding blush to her flawless features. Hermione retrieved the brush, and began to pull in through the girl's hair, trying her hardest not to pull the misses hair. Who knew what the silly lass would do if she was too rough.

This was the second night that Lord Malfoy had been at the Parkinsons manor, and Pansy was trying as hard as ever to get him to propose to her. As far as Hermione was concerned they seemed perfect for each other. She had personally been busy in the nursery for the past few days, so she hadn't seen him. But she had hears from other servants that he had arrived late, snubbed at least three waiters, believing them to be beneath his exalted touch, and every person was hanging on his every utterance. In all honesty, Hermione believed the proposal, if there was to be one, would be richly deserved by both parties.

Finally, Hermione was able to leave the girls chambers, and she hurried up the stairs away from the guest. If anyone were to see her come across him, she would surely get a lashing. Madame Parkinson had made it very clear that she was to stay away from Lord Malfoy at all costs. It was normal though. As the nursery governess, she was hardly ever introduced, nor allowed near the visitors. Arriving to her chambers, she searched around the small space before finding a novel to read. Every so often, she would put the book down, and listen to hear if dinner was done, then begin reading again. Almost two hours later she heard movement downstairs, and she put away the volume, before making her way down to help with the dishes.

As she moved quickly down the corridor, she was grabbed by the arm, and pulled into a dark corner. "Where do you think you're going?" A voiced breathed in her ear.

Urgently, Hermione, pulled away, and glared up at the chubby man who had grabbed her. Queasiness poured through her as she took a step away from Goyle; the Parkinson's esteemed son. Well, Master Parkinson's son. He was the child of an affair, or so all the older staff say. He stepped closer to her, reaching for her again, as she very headily stomped on his toes. With a yelp, he pushed her backwards, causing her to tumble and lose her footing. With a small shriek, she tried to catch herself, but instead found strong arms catch her.

"Is there a problem here?" A deep voice sounded, and Hermione stiffened, turning slowly to find herself looking up at her Draco- the man she had never forgotten. He was the one who starred in her dreams, the one she always imagined her happily ever after to be with.

Flinching from his touch, she shrank back from him, her eyes wide as she whispered, "What are you doing here?" She was aware of his dark grey eyes on her after she spoke, and watched with horror as he frowned slightly, raising a white-blonde eyebrow.

"Do I know you?" His deep voice questioned, and she recoiled, realizing with a sudden insight that this was the esteemed Lord Malfoy. He didn't recognize her. A stab of grief overcame her, before she realized it was for the best. She was nothing to him, and that was how it should be.

Shaking her head lightly, she lowered her eyes in a servant-like manner. "No sir, I was not expecting anyone to be up here this soon. You startled me is all. I just happened to slip. Sorry sir."

The blonde man raised his eyebrow higher as he stared at her, before raising his voice slightly. "You slipped, did you? And did Parkinson slip as well? You may as well come out, Goyle. We should be quite clear that we understand each other here."

The chubby man stepped out, his face red with anger as he glowered at Malfoy. "What's it to you? This ain't your house. You should learn to mind your own business."

Lord Malfoy smirked with the least vestige of humor, his eyes alight with spite. "The whims of a visitor should always be taken precedence over one's own indulgences. It seems that this wench is less than willing, and you shall oblige me when I say you shall not touch her again. Is that clear to you, Goyle?"

_Wench?_ She choked back her explosion, and stepped to the side. It was safer for her not to say anything more to the man.

Goyle stared at the two of them, his eyes narrowed in contempt. The look of pure hatred he shot at Hermione swore revenge, and her heart sank. Fear crept up her spine, and she swallowed lightly- if Madame Parkinson heard about how she had stomped on his toe, or talked to Lord Draco, she would be severely punished.

Goyle smirked a lewd, greasy smile, and muttered, "Oh, she's always willing enough… Aren't you, wench?" Lord Malfoy took a step closer to Goyle, a glare on his face.

"Leave, before I forget that your father is my host." Without another word, he had scampered away like a frightened mouse. Hermione turned and started to walk away before a hand on her shoulder stopped her. "A moment, girl."

She slowly turned, and lifted her eyes to his face. The angles, and sharp expression held her captive; he held the promise of strength and purposes. Something within her revelled even as she stood motionless, captured by his intense stare. "My lord?"

"You confuse me, girl." He muttered, as she tried to look submissive; trying to look away from him. Mutely she pulled her eyes away from his, and stared at the ground. "Are you a servant?"

With a small nod of the head, she admired his shoes; noting how they had a small amount of dirt on them from riding earlier. This eased her mind slightly, for if he didn't mind a small amount of mud he mustn't be too pompous.

"You don't talk like one," He went on. She could sense his searing stare on her, and she lightly wiped off her skirts.

Nervously, she cleared her throat, "Nursery governess, my lord."

"Oh… Well, I shall mention this to your mistress and-"

"For God's sake, no!" Shaking, she tried to return her voice to clam. "She would blame me- not him! I'd be whipp- sacked. Please don't!" Her wide brown eyes looked up at his, and he frowned.

"Very well. What is your name?"

Her breath caught in her throat, and she hesitated. His eyes narrowed when she didn't answer right away, and finally she was able to mutter out the pathetic name from her adoption. "Missy." She whispered, bobbing a small curtsy, and leaving before he could ask anything else.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione sat down on her small cot, and slumped against the wall, leaning her head into her hands. _Draco was here… But why? Was he really going to court Pansy? Her tender, caring Draco wooing Pansy for marriage? _The mere thought of the two together made her nauseous. _Did he know that she was here? Of course not- _she reprimanded herself-_ don't be silly. He didn't even know that you were going to the orphanage… Did he? What if he found out that she was here? The only way to help her would be to take her out of the Parkinson's care. Though, it would be of little use. She could leave in a week. One week, and she'll be free. It was better for now if he knew her as 'Missy', and not her real identity. Imagine how repulsed he'd be if he knew it was truly her. _

In all of her dreams, Draco had recognized her instantaneously; sweeping her onto his noble steed and running off with her into the sunset. This Lord Malfoy was a different matter entirely. Earls didn't carry impecunious servants into a happily ever after. They merely sought after them to do their dull chores, and clean up after them. Somehow Hermione was going to have to push the image of Lord Malfoy into the dark depths of her head, and instead focus only on her Draco, or else her perfect dream would forever be tarnished.

The following night, Draco, Earl Malfoy was sitting at his assigned chair in the dining room. He almost sighed in hardly hid contempt as the ladies all left the Dining Room in the wake of Lady Parkinson. What in Hades had possessed him to accept this utterly dreary invitation? He absolutely loathed small gatherings like this- where all the characters acted in divine hypocrisy of each other. He must admit that he'd rather be at home playing chess with his half-brother, Vincent.

Across the table sat Goyle; re-enacting some sort of tale involving a lady's companion at another house party; his tediously drone voice causing Draco to grit his teeth. The only thing keeping him seated was his idea in which he needed to talk with Lord Parkinson, to ask of Ted Granger daughter. He had, in fact gone to the St. Peterson Orphanage, where he had been told that Miss Granger had been adopted by this particular family. It puzzled him fiercely though, for he had yet to see her.

"Oi, Malfoy, are yeh there old chap? You're being chased." said Mr. Thomson, from across the table.

Draco stared at him blankly for a moment, his rather dull gaze quite bored. He already knew that. Pansy Parkinson's lack of subtlety at dinner was rather ridiculous, as was her Mothers. Both women had no interest in hiding their true intentions towards him. He shuddered lightly at the simple thought of being alone with Pansy, and he had no doubt that if Lady Parkinson had anything to do with it he'd be marrying her daughter.

"My dear boy, all you've got to do now if drop your handkerchief."

Draco picked up his horrid brandy and took a large gulp; the atrocious substance causing him to repress a near shudder. Miss Pansy may be taken with him, but she sure as hell would not be taken by him. And he would be staying as far as way from her as humanly possible to cease any thoughts having to do with this exact subject.

"Of course, if marriage doesn't appeal to you, then you could always amuse yourself with Lavender Brown, or Astoria Greengrass. They certainly won't expect a proposal from you." Thompson went on, quite presumptuous and showing a great deal of percipience for a man in his inebriated state.

He held back a grimace, and shrugged noncommittally, for he did have a certain reputation. The fact was, if Draco had known that Miss Greengrass, and Miss Brown would be there, fluttering their heavily painted eyelashes at him, he would had seriously reconsidered his visit. With a scornful glower, he stood up; excusing himself quietly from Thompson. With a sigh, he sauntered towards Master Parkinson, leaning into the man's ear, to whisper.

"May I have a moment to talk with you; alone?" The earl asked; frowning when he saw the look of delight on the older man's face.

"Of course not, my dear boy." The man stood up, lightly leading him to his study, excitement obvious in his mannerisms. As he closes the door, Parkinson turns to Malfoy; grinning. "Some brandy?"

"No, I'm quite all right." Draco muttered, looking around the elaborate room. "I've come to discuss something with you."

The dark haired man sat behind his desk, an eyebrow rose eagerly. "So you do. Please, enlighten me."

With a sudden shock, Malfoy cursed himself. The man thought he was going to ask for Pansy's hand in marriage. Wrinkling his nose lightly; his features turned cold. "It has come to my understanding that you adopted a young girl a few years ago. I have come to ask about her whereabouts. I haven't seen Miss Granger anywhere."

Parkinson froze, his eyes widening as he stared at the young Earl. "Granger? Oh she... She... It was a terrible occurrence. Not long after we took her in, she passed on."

With a look of disgust, Malfoy stood up, brushing off his trousers before muttering, "Well, if you'd give me the information of where she went, I'll be on my way."

"You misunderstood me. She's no longer with us, as in..."

"She's dead?" Draco was suddenly pierced with guilt; why hadn't he thought to check up on her earlier? "Well, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to visit her grave..."

"I'm afraid it's unmarked. You see, we had no idea that the poor girl was so affected by her fathers' death. It wasn't long after she began to live with us, that she took her own life."

Cold horror laced with shock ran through Draco as he thought of the poor girl. The memory of another suicide filled his thoughts as he remembered the girl huddled on the ground, as if trying to get as close to her father as possible. Too little, too late. Draco stood to leave, before turning back to the man; a new image filling his mind. The small, brown-eyed servant that Goyle had been feeling up behind the staircase. Clearing his throat, he tried to calm his voice. "I was also wondering if you would have a word with your son. I found him to be forcing his attention on an unwilling servant girl."

"A servant? Well, which one?"

"I'm not sure. I just know that she seemed thoroughly distressed about it." The girls eyes haunted him, when she had looked up at him. They were dark and shadowed, full of a strange trust. He'd be damned if he couldn't at least help her.

The man chortled his laughter as he took a drink of his Brandy. "Ah, well it was just a maid. Goyle must have his fun somewhere, and I daresay, she must not have been that unwilling."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed menacingly as he hissed through clenched teeth, "I dare say she was most distraught about it. And I would have no trouble telling the same thing to anyone who asks. After all, you wouldn't want anyone coming to ask on Miss Grangers' death, would you?"

Surprisingly the man went pale and nodded quickly. "Of course. I'll have a word with Goyle... But I daresay, Malfoy, a maidservant... Honestly. She's nobody important."

With a growl of intense anger Draco left to his room; glaring savagely at the man. Is that what he said about Hermione, when she had passed? That she was nobody important so it was alright?

Hermione hummed softly as she folded another piece of laundry. Looking up at the clock she confirmed that she still had plenty of time. All of the others would still be out riding, so she would be perfectly safe to go into the garden when she was done. With a smile, she looked at her basket, picking up her second last piece of mending, and getting busy sewing it. As the door swung open, Hermione stopped her whistling immediately, freezing as she turned around.

A familiar figure closed the door speedily, and silently looked around wildly. If she hadn't been so surprised, Hermione would had laughed at the erratic movement of the man. She blinked, just as Lord Malfoy ducked behind the closet door; obviously hiding from something.

"My Lord?" Hermione stared at him; her eyes wide.

He glared at her from his hiding place; his dark eyes seeming to pierce through her as he gestured for her to be quiet.

"And your feet, My Lord? They are quite visible still." She whispered, lowering her voice as his eyes grew wide.

"Shit... Girl, toss that blanket here." As she did, she shook her head lightly, turning back to her work. _Of course he has to hide in here, where she is... Just her luck. _

Her thoughts were interrupted as the door opened again, this time Lavender Brown stepping in. The woman was clad in a long, pale dress, and her hands were on her hips. Her coloured lips were twisted in scorn as she stared at the servant girl. With a small flick of her hair, she distastefully lifted her nose into the air. "Is his Lordship around, wench?"

Hermione couldn't help the frown that crossed her face. The lordship in question was visible in her peripheral view; quickly shaking his head. Just as she opened her mouth to answer, Lavender spoke again.

"I asked you a question. Are you stupid, or can you not talk, you fool? When I talk, you answer. Got it?" Her face was twisted with derision, and Hermione frowned further.

"Oh no. The Master went boatin' wiv' all the other quality. Down at the lake. Do you need summat mended? I can you wiv' that, mum." Hermione played down her voice; allowing for a slight uneducated troll into it, knowing it will infuriate the girl more.

"Not Master Parkinson, girl! Earl Malfoy" Lavender was at the end of her patience, and her hands were on her hips as she yelled.

"His lordship? What would he want wiv' the likes of me, in the broom closet, miss?" She blinked her eyes like a dazed deer; her hands still nimbly mending the cloth.

"Nothing, obviously. I don't see what anyone would ever want with the likes of you." With a huff, the girl left in a flurry of skirts, and Hermione let out a breath.

"Bitch." She murmured; forgetting that she was in the presence of an Earl.

"I quite agree." She spun around; meeting the gaze of her unwanted visitor, who was dusting off his clothes. Heat pooled over her face, and she ducked her head to her needlecraft, humiliated that she had forgotten his company in her irritation.

"She was wrong, you know." He added, walking up behind her. She was intensely aware of him as she worked, confused.

"Wrong? Wrong about what, My Lord?"

"Wrong that no one would ever want anything to do with you. For instance, that accent was truly marvellous." He grinned at her widely; transforming his face, so that it was clouded with boyish charm. "And I do owe you my thanks, by the way. You really did save me back there."

She nodded her acceptance, and lightly whispered. "You should leave, sir."

He frowned lightly, and bit down on his lip. "So soon?"

"Before anyone see's me. I'm not supposed to be... I'm not supposed to talk with guests. It's not my place, sir."

"Ah- but everyone is boating."

"Not the servants- the other servants. Some have no problem tattling." Hermione flushed lightly. Drat this man. He was grinning, and she couldn't help the impulse to want to smile back. Instead she forced a frown on her lips, blinking shyly. "Please sir- go."

His eyebrows pulled together slowly, before he frowned; gazing at her sombrely. "Why, Missy... You don't think that I'd ever act like... That I'd ever treat you like Goyle does? You're not frightened of me are you?" His voice was distressed, and she shook her head.

"Oh no! Of course not! You would never..."

"You seem pretty sure..." His eyes focused on her; feeling as if he could read her mind.

"I... Um, nothing about your reputation suggests that you would ever..." She mumbled; flustered from his constant gaze on her.

With a small nod, he accepted her explanation, and he gently lifted his hand to her face. Very tenderly he traced her jaw, until his thumb brushed against her bottom lip. Reflexively, her eyes closed; and his stroke sent shivers down her spine. Before she knew what happened, he had pulled away, and nodded to her; his eyes hooded.

"My thanks again, Missy." With that, he left Hermione alone in the room. Slowly she trailed over where he had touched her; only somewhat shocked that her skin wasn't actually hot from his touch. Drat that man, he was going to be the bereavement of her...

And Hermione found herself wondering if that would really be so bad...


	3. Chapter 3

Draco walked slowly, his hand on the reigns of his horse; whose nose was resting on his shoulder. The spoiled filly. It had been two days since he had heard about Hermione Granger's death, and he still felt guilt ridden about it. His lips formed a small pout as he strolled, stopping when he reached the small creek, so that the horse could have a drink. Tiredly he sat with his back against a large oak; the bark lightly scratching his back through his shirt. It was amazing that he had been able to leave the rest of the suitors without being caught. This dreadful house party was without a doubt the most tedious that he had ever attended. He didn't know why he was still here, actually. He had found out all he had needed to know, there was nothing holding him to the house any longer.

That was a lie. _Big, brown eyes filled his mind, and he was caught for a moment in the mere memory of their depth. _He hadn't seen her since the cupboard incident, and he was sure that the Parkinson's were behind it. He had done all he could to help the poor girl, by causing Goyle to stop tormenting her. Guilt filled him, and he thought about it for a moment. It was devastatingly clear that when he left, Goyle would be even more eager in his tormenting of the girl. There was nothing more he could offer the girl.

This body slowly hardened as he continued walking, suggesting that there were numerous things that the duo could do for each other. Ever since that first night when she had collapsed into his arms he had been aware of the intense attraction. At first he had tried to ignore it; blaming the insane notion on disinterested chivalry. Acting in her defense because it was what any decent man would do. The idea was only half truth. He had wanted to protect her, but he absolutely not disinterested. The exact opposite was true. He wanted her.

And the strange thing was that she appeared as if she couldn't get rid of him fast enough. No matter how polite he tried to appear towards her; his niceties, and his playful bantering in the closet. She had seemed to want none of it. Her whole stormy indifference piqued his interest even more. Almost every girl in her position would be tripping over her feet in an effort to get close to him. To try to persuade him into seduction. Missy was the complete opposite. He smirked softly. It wasn't usually what he looked for in a mistress, but for her he'd be more than willing to make the exception. Good Lord she'd be sweet…

God, what was he doing? He'd be damned if he acted anything like that dreadful Goyle towards her… _Ah, but he wouldn't have to… All he had to do was to make an offer to her. Let her know of his interest._

With a wet, loud snort, his horse laid its head down on his lap, and he smiled lightly. He could still remember when he got the damned thing. It had been the most stubborn; frisky horse that he had ever set eyes on, yet somehow he had managed to train her. _Train her? More like spoil her into submission. Perhaps he could do the same with the servant girl. _There was something about the girl that drew him to her- perhaps her luscious body; kissable lips… Or maybe, just maybe, it was the way that she looked at him as if she trusted him whole-heartedly. He had never had anyone look at him that way_. _He smirked as his horse let out a soft whinny.

Standing up slowly, he stretched out his muscles, contemplating. He had to find the girl, and meet with her alone in order to tell her his proposal. He was in between mistresses right now, and he was positive that she would be perfect for him. Missy would most likely refuse his proposal, and he would have to think of a new course to help her. It was more than aggravating, the way he could never tell what the girls true feelings were. She was able to block her emotions easily; obviously having had many years of practice to do so.

His heart went out to the beautiful woman. He couldn't imagine what the girl has had to go through. The idea of helping her; and protecting her made him swell with yearning. The mere thought of her refusing him made him revolt. She would be very different than all of his previous mistresses. It was odd though- usually when he had a woman in mind to seduce, he could see the end of the affair right when it started. With this one he couldn't imagine giving the dark-haired woman up in three months, his usual time frame.

He pushed the thought away- he was being fanciful. He admitted that taking her up as his mistress would be the easiest and not to mention most satisfying way to protect her. _This way he could have his cake and eat it too_, he thought with a delightfully wicked smirk of longing.

_**Sorry for the short chapter! I have a lot going on, but I wanted to update for all of you. Hope you're liking it, and I appreciate everyone's reviews, and follows. Thank you so much. XOXOX- Alannah.**_


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione hurried towards the laundry closet; a basket of linen in her arms. Her brown hair had fallen out of her bun; a few rambunctious strands dancing over her face. Shifting the basket under her arm, she gathered her long skirts in her empty hand, hiking them up. She had to stay out of sight, or else Lady Parkinson would whip her, and Hermione did not want that to happen again. Letting out a sigh, she finally got to the room. Letting go of her skirts, she twisted the door knob just as a she heard a 'crash' sound from around the corner. Hesitating slightly, Hermione let out a groan of exasperation.

"Please sir, let go of me!" A girl cried out; her voice thick with tears.

"Drat." Hermione heaved her linen basket into her arms, and hurried around the corner to see what the ruckus was. Goyle was standing on top of Ginny, who was weeping on the floor, teacups shattered around her. Her hands were circled protectively above her red hair, and tears were streaming down her face as Goyle leered above her.

"You work for me, do yah' hear?" The big man scowled, grabbing her elbow angrily; easily pulling her up. A whimper escaped the small girl, and she nodded in fright.

"Y-y-yes, sir." Her bottom lip trembled lightly.

"That means you're going to do what I tell yah to, right?"

"P-please sir, I-I have to go s-serve tea to your ladyship and her company."

Before the sickening fool could threaten the poor girl any longer, Hermione darted out. Tossing the linen basket on the floor, she elbowed her way between the duo; making Goyle jump slightly in surprise.

"Let go of her right now." She lifted her chin in some semblance of authority; trying not to show her fear. It was one thing for the man to force himself onto her, but it was outright awful to push it onto this innocent girl. Ginny pulled out of his grasp; tears pooling in her eyes again.

"What the hell? Get out of my way you pathetic wench!" His voice raised a notch; and Hermione glared at him, blocking his view of young Ginny.

"Haven't you done enough? Leave!" Hermione frowned at him, before kneeling down, to start collecting the broken tea cups, helping the red head. Goyle stepped forward, looming over the two as they scurried to pick up the mess. With a small growl of absolute outrage, Hermione jumped back to her feet; a shard of glass in her hand. "Were you looking for this?" She snarled, watching as his face drained of color.

"What is going on here?" Lady Parkinson's shrill voice cut through the strange standoff, and Hermione cursed lightly under her breath. Taking a step back, she lightly moved her hands behind her back; hiding the jagged piece of glass that she had just used to threaten Goyle.

Lady Parkinson's face was the color of molten lava; her eyes bugging out of her head in fury. "You insolent hussy." She muttered through clenched teeth as she stared at the ruined tea service. "Get out of my home. I expect you to be packed-"

"It was not Ginny's blunder." Hermione stood up straighter; avoiding looking at both Goyle and the other servant. "I wasn't paying much attention when I was walking around the corner, ma'am. I knocked the pot right out of her hands." Her cheeks flushed, but she knew it was better to lie than to tell the truth and have Ginny dismissed. Lady Parkinson would not fret at all about how her son was a sordid chauvinist pig.

Hermione stared down at the floor and held her breath, hoping Lady Parkinson would believe her.

From his vantage point just inside his bedchamber, Draco held his breath as well. His bright grey eyes were fixated on the young, brown-haired servant. Obviously Goyle didn't confine his harassment to only Missy. Slowly, he pushed his door open a bit more, allowing for him to be able to watch the entire scene.

Lady Parkinson's back was to him, but he was still able to tell that she was incredibly irritated. Her shoulders were stiff with tension, and her head was held high, as if disgusted. in between Goyle and the weeping servant, Draco noted how Missy stood very still. Her expression was blank; her eyes downcast as she bit down on her lip, waiting for the inevitable.

Draco was as well- it was obvious that the girl was going to be dismissed in the place of the other servant. In a way, Draco felt almost proud of this girl, for she had sacrificed her own job just to save both the younger servant from dismissal and from assault. With a small amount of amusement Draco realised that once she was fired there would be no reason for her to stay here... She would most likely accept his offer to be his mistress- unless she did not reciprocate his desire. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach just as Lady Parkinson's hand flashed across Missy's cheek in a loud smack.

The blur of movement and the ringing smack left Missy standing there with her cheek flaming scarlet. Unflinchingly she clasped her hands together, and gritted her teeth.

He hadn't realised he had moved, until he was already out of his bed chamber, striding towards the trio. "A little domestic disaster, my lady?" He mused, trying to keep his voice clam; evading looking in the direction of Missy, knowing he'd want to smother his hostess.

Lady Parkinson blanched, taking a quick step backwards as her hand lifted to her lips. "Oh!"

Draco stilled, watching her carefully. If she moved to strike Missy again...

"I hadn't realized that you were up, my Lord... We were just cleaning up over here." Her eyes flashed towards the two girls. "Get this cleaned up, and stay out of my sight." With a small squeak the red head jumped up, and began gathering the glass quickly. "And you... I will deal with you later. Get out of my sight, you impertinent hussy!"

With a very small curtsy, Missy turned and made her way around the corner, where she gathered her laundry.

"So, my lord. I thought that you were already down with the others... Getting ready to go out riding. Which, by the way." She turned towards Goyle. "You had better go see if they need any help."

"That's what we have servants for, mother." The boy said petulantly; his chubby cheeks pulling up as he scowled.

"Now."

With a glare, he turned and made his way down the staircase, his shoulders slumped in anger.

"Actually, I have to write a letter. I will not be joining the riding party this afternoon. Although, I do thank you for the invite." With a small, forced smile, he turned and made his way towards his bedchambers once again. He had meant to join the riding party, but for now he had a much more pressing matter. As Missy's innocent face entered his thoughts he brushed himself off, and let out a small breath. _Here goes nothing... _He thought as he nervously looked to make sure Lady Parkinson was gone. As her footsteps receded down the corridor, Draco slowly retraced Missy's steps around the corner.

**Sorry for the late post! I've been really busy with diploma's and work. We've had atrocious weather as well. Anyways, please tell me what you think! And, massive writers block. Any idea's I implore you to let me know! Xoxox -Alannah**


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